Waiting For Him
by Evening Nightshade
Summary: What happened to Arwen when Aragorn was in Bree, fetching Frodo and company? **COMPLETE, REVISED AND 7TH CHAPTER ADDED**
1. Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I don't own LOTR (though I wish I did!)  
  
SUMMARY: What happened to Arwen when Aragorn was in Bree, fetching Frodo and company? Movie-verse story. **COMPLETE, REVISED, 7TH CHAPTER ADDED**  
  
SPECIAL MENTIONS: Thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed this story: addicted, WinterPlum, Heidi M, Psycho Goddess, Natters, Sheri P, Belothien, staran, Dee, Artemis22, Exiled-Knight, Madeleine541, Sammy, Bex, Arwen Undomiel, QuackingFrog, Kaz, lurker, Kate Fairbairn and brightsabre. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All right, I've gone back and completely revised this story from the beginning, plus I've written a final chapter, so enjoy!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
CHAPTER ONE: RELUCTANT PARTINGS  
  
Aragorn sat on a bench, overlooking Rivendell. He sighed; who knew who long it would be before he was back?  
  
Gandalf had entrusted him with a highly important mission, and, although he hadn't mentioned it, Aragorn had the feeling it would be dangerous too. Anything Gandalf wanted you to do usually involved danger. But this one would involve traveling to Bree to collect a hobbit: Frodo Baggins, who had inexplicably gotten hold of the One Ring.  
  
Aragorn watched in silent awe as the sun began her descent into the West. The baby blue sky was streaked with shades of gold, orange and pink. It was almost perfect. Almost.  
  
"Estel."  
  
He pivoted round, smiling uneasily. "Hello, Evenstar." He didn't want to tell her he was leaving; he had only just returned. Although she never complained about their frequent partings, Aragorn knew how much Arwen wanted to beg him to stay.  
  
"You are leaving," She said pointedly, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
"You know?" Aragorn exclaimed in surprise. Then, he sighed. "Of course you know. Nothing stays secret in Rivendell for long."  
  
Arwen seated herself beside him, and slid her silken hand into his calloused grasp. She smiled weakly, but her eyes betrayed her. He could see the worry, the fear glowing in those eyes of sapphire that he loved so. Pulling her close, he tilted her chin and brushed his lips over hers. So soft and silken, a kiss from Arwen was like Valinor personified.  
  
Valinor. As he tightened his grip on her waist, he thought of what she had once told him: "Ever since our first meeting, my heart has belonged to you. When the time comes, I will bind myself to, Aragorn son of Arathorn. For you, I will forsake the immortal life of my people, choosing to live as your mortal wife instead of journeying to the Undying Lands with my father."  
  
No matter how much he loved her, Aragorn could not stand to be her death. Arwen was so beautiful, so wonderful, so special. She deserved so much more than to be the wife of a Ranger, and to die.  
  
"When do you leave?" She murmured, nestling against his chest.  
  
"Tonight." He rose. "I have to be in Bree by sunset five days hence." Bending to capture her lips in a farewell kiss, his arms involuntarily clutched at her hips, just to feel the comfort of knowing she was near.  
  
"Estel," she whispered. "Amin mela lle." [I love you.]  
  
"Lith eithel, vanimelda," [As well, beloved] he replied softly. "Namarie." [Good bye.]  
  
Arwen watched as he descended the marble staircase, closing her eyes until the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard.  
  
"Elbereth, watch over him," she whispered in prayer, as a lone tear meandered down her cheek. No matter how often they parted, no matter how long it was for, she always cried. If only he knew how he desperately she wanted to be by his side always.  
  
"Take care, Estel." She blew a kiss to the scurrying figure in the courtyard below. He turned, and smiled affectionately at her, before leaping on his black stallion, and riding off into the dusk. 


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: THE PAIN OF SEPARATION   
  
  
  
Moonlight poured in the window of Arwen's chamber. She collapsed on her bed, sliding on the silken sheets.  
  
  
Tears poured down her alabaster cheeks, as she raised a hand to wipe them away. Two fingers rested on the Evenstar pendant at the base of her throat.   
  
  
"Oh, Aragorn!" She wept, rolling onto her front. Who knew when he would be back? It was worrying enough when he was simply out performing his ranger duties. But now, knowing that his latest mission would involve the One Ring, made her blood turn to ice.  
  
  
Arwen knew about his fears; she knew him. He was terrified of ending up like Isildur; of falling prey to the temptation that had brought ruin to his bloodline. Arwen knew he would do anything to prevent himself from suffering the same fate.  
  
  
Someone rapped on her door. "Who is it?" She choked, brushing the tears from her face.  
  
  
"Oh, Undomiel!" Elrond ran to his daughter's side. "My child, what is wrong?"  
  
  
"Nothing, Ada!" She swallowed. "It is… unimportant."  
  
  
"Undomiel, I can sense the anxiety in your heart," Elrond whispered, his chestnut eyes piercing her soul. "It is all right." He squeezed his daughter's hand reassuringly. "I do not know what troubles you, my daughter, but I beg you not to let it bother you like this." Then, he sighed, his lips pursing.. "Is it about Estel?"  
  
  
Arwen nodded, looking away, unsure whether her father would truly understand. Ever since he had learned of his daughter's love for the Man he had raised in his own home, Elrond had only spoken of him to Arwen in bitterness. The elf-lord was still unable to accept that Arwen was willing to forsake her immortality, never to answer the powerful call of the Sea, for a mortal.  
  
  
"You must not worry. Aragorn is more than capable of taking care of himself. That is why Mithrandir and I sent him. He will be fine."  
  
  
Arwen smiled mildly, although the anxiety was still evident in her sapphire eyes.  
  
  
"Get some rest." Elrond stroked her hair, and placed a tender kiss on her brow.   
  
  
"Goodnight, Ada." She sighed, closing her eyes.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
"Evenstar…" His voice echoed in her room.  
  
  
Arwen sat up in bed, and rubbed her bleary eyes. "Estel?"  
  
  
"Arwen…"   
  
  
She stood, head turning frantically to try and discern where that voice was coming from. Aragorn was miles away by now… Out of the safety of his home, alone in the dangerous Wilds of Middle Earth.  
  
  
And he was being hunted. 


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: COMFORT  
  
  
  
If Arwen had thought that the worry would lessen as time progressed, she was sorely mistaken.   
  
  
It was not just the understanding of what Aragorn would be facing on this particular journey. It was the knowledge that, in offering his aid to the Ringbearer, he would soon be plunged into another, more dangerous quest - a quest that had been his since the day of his father's death.  
  
  
As the last Heir of Isildur, he was bound to the fate of the One Ring. Every time the accursed object was mentioned, she could see a fire burn behind his eyes - he wanted, he needed to see the ring destroyed.   
  
  
"Arwen?" Bilbo's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Is something wrong?" She didn't answer. He lay a hand on her shoulder. "Something is worrying you…"  
  
  
"I love him, Bilbo," she whispered, turning to stare into his eyes. "Surely you must know that."  
  
  
The old hobbit nodded. "There are few in Imladris who do not know. But my dear princess," he climbed unsteadily onto the bench beside her. "Aragorn knows what he is doing."  
  
  
"You fear too, Bilbo," she replied, staring sightlessly at the evening sunset, unable to quell the agony in her heart. She did not know why this separation was hurting her so much - after all, she and Estel had spent greater periods of time apart, but never before had she felt so… afraid.  
  
  
"I know," Bilbo said with a sigh. "For Aragorn, and Frodo. I know that Aragorn is an excellent warrior, if even one tenth of what Gandalf has told me is true."  
  
  
Arwen smiled. "He is. My brothers taught him well. But…" She struggled to find the words.  
  
  
"But you fear because of his adversary?"  
  
  
She nodded, a single tear meandering down her ivory cheek. "This is no ordinary errand. This involves the One Ring."  
  
  
"Do not fear, Lady Undomiel," Bilbo answered, handing her a pristine handkerchief to dry her tears. "Everything will turn out fine in the end. I promise."  
  
  
"Thank you, Bilbo."   
  
  
  
* * * * * *   
  
  
  
As the crescent moon, like a sliver of pure mithril, appeared from behind the clouds, Arwen gazed pensively at the sky. "Manke naa lle, Estel?" [Where are you, Estel?]  
  
  
Closing her eyes, she allowed her voice to rise in song: the Lay of Lúthien. The chill wind carried her voice deep into the valley below; but her heart willed it further.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
"Who is she?" The small voice startled Aragorn out of his reverie. He turned to face the hobbit who stared at him, wide-eyed. "This woman that you sing of?"  
  
  
Aragorn sighed. "'Tis the Lay of Lúthien, the elf-maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal," he answered heavily, hoping that Frodo would go back to sleep.  
  
  
"What happened to her?" The Ringbearer pressed.  
  
  
He bowed his head. "She died. Go back to sleep, Frodo," he added. The hobbit obediently joined his fellows in the throes of slumber.  
  
  
Thoughts of Lúthien and Beren made his heart heavy. Her sacrifice was one he had found heart-rendering; for what was a greater expression of love than to give up your life for that person?  
  
  
'She is only doing this because she loves you,' he told himself. Yet, though he was not blessed with the foresight of his Elven ancestors, the future was clear enough. If Arwen became his wife, she would inflict mortal pains upon herself: illness, age, and worse of all, death.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Like a bolt of lightning, the solution hit her.   
  
  
Arwen was on her feet in an instant. Turning, she raced to her chamber, careful not to awaken her handmaidens.   
  
  
The blade gleamed in the milky light of the moon as she unsheathed her sword. Lúthien had aided her beloved in his quest - could Arwen not aid hers? 


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: REUNION  
  
  
  
As the milky sun rose above the Misty Mountains, a lone figure crept to the stables, cautiously opening the door. The horses raised their heads in alarm at this new visitor, but returned their attention to their meal upon seeing Arwen slip into the wooden enclosure.  
  
  
Her nose wrinkled at the ubiquitous smell that floated in the air, instantly jealous of Humans and their inferior senses. There were times, she admitted grudgingly, when that could actually be an advantage.  
  
  
"Hello, Asfaloth," she whispered to her beautiful white stallion, a black gloved hand reaching to tenderly stroke his nose. He neighed softly, nuzzling her face. The horse had originally belonged to Glorfindel, but Asfaloth's wild temperament had driven the blond elf to distraction, and he had given the horse to Arwen. Amazingly, the elf princess had managed to tame the stallion, much to Glorfindel's ire.  
  
  
Through a window in the stables, Arwen watched the sunrise for a moment, estimating that she had less than an hour before her father awoke.  
  
  
"Hiril-nin?" [My Lady?] A voice called in surprise.  
  
  
Arwen pivoted round, feigning a smile. "'Quel amrun, Glorfindel," [Good morning] she greeted, adjusting Asfaloth's saddle. "How are you this morning?"  
  
  
The blond elf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "May I ask what an elf princess is doing in the stables at dawn?" He folded his arms across his chest. "And why are you wearing your riding coat?"  
  
  
Arwen inhaled a deep breath, thinking quickly. "I felt like going for a ride before breakfast," she said calmly, smoothing a crease from her dress.   
  
  
"With your sword?" Arwen could find no response. Glorfindel's expression softened. "Arwen, child, please do not do anything foolish. Now, tell me the truth: what are doing? Where are you going?"  
  
  
She could have coped with Glorfindel's wrath; but against his soft, paternal tone, she had no defense. "Estel needs my help. I have to find him."  
  
  
Her companion strode across the straw-covered floor, eliminating the distance between them. He grasped her chin gently, forcing him to meet his green eyes that flickered with worry. "Arwen, you cannot seriously be considering… It is folly!"  
  
  
"Please, Glorfindel," she pleaded, pushing him away. "You must let me go." The elf fell silent, eyeing his friend's daughter, the young girl he had helped raise and watched blossom into the Evenstar, concern etched on his face. "Please, Glorfindel. I love him!"  
  
  
"Arwen, please," He begged, an expression of pleading more powerful than anything she had seen in her three thousand year existence crossing his face. The elf struggled for breath, blinking.   
  
  
"That is why I have to go," she said, feeling that she might as well take advantage of his silence to put her point across. "My heart will not a moment's rest until I see him safe with my own two eyes. Surely you understand that?"  
  
  
"But…" Glorfindel finally found his voice, "It is too dangerous, Undomiel. Far too dangerous. Your father would never allow it!"  
  
  
"That is why he must not know, at least not yet! You must let me go to him, Glorfindel!" She beseeched.   
  
  
"Let me go in your place, Undomiel!"   
  
  
She shook her head. "I alone shall go. Please Glorfindel. I am old enough to make my own decisions in life. I am going, with or without your approval."  
  
  
The blond elf sighed. "You are as stubborn as your Father." Then, he added, "Elrond will kill me if I allow you to go on this foolish quest!"  
  
  
The last thing Glorfindel saw was Arwen's sorrowful expression, but an iron horseshoe struck him across the back of the head, and he slipped into blackness.   
  
  
"I think that takes care of one little problem," Bilbo said cheerily, leaping down from his perch and landing squarely on his back. Taking his tiny hand in her own, Arwen pulled the hobbit to his feet. "Who knew that if you panicked an elf enough, it would distort his senses?"  
  
  
"Thank you, Bilbo!" Arwen declared, enfolding the hobbit in her arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek before mounting Asfaloth.   
  
  
"May the protection of Elbereth Starkindler shine upon you, Evenstar," he whispered as she rode off into the dawn.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
"Noro lim, Asfaloth!" [Ride fast, Asfaloth!] The command echoed across the fields as Arwen dug her heels into the stallion's sides. Aragorn was at most ten days away by foot. If she rode hard enough, she could cover that distance in two or three days. All she had to do was focus…  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Day melted into night, fields into forest, but horse and rider continued their relentless journey, taking sporadic rests to allow Asfaloth time to recover. Her poor stallion was being pushed to the edge of his endurance, but that thought barely entered Arwen's mind.  
  
  
  
Her every thought was of her love, Estel, and the dangers he might be in. What if he had to face the Nazgul? Arwen knew her love well enough to understand that he would give his very life if he knew that his sacrifice was not in vain. Estel cared not for his own safety, but the safety of others. It was a quality Arwen admired in him, one of the things that made her willing to forsake everything was for him, but she feared in would be his undoing. 'Please, be careful, meleth-nin,' she prayed. 'Be careful.'  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Another day of arduous riding followed. Before Arwen realised it, Laurelin's fruit had began to sink beneath the horizon. Soon, darkness had descended over the world.   
  
  
But tonight was different. Arwen could feel tendrils of ice reverberate down her spine, the sting of a thousand needles prickling her skin. That meant one thing, and one thing alone. The Nazgul were close; and were the Nazgul were, the Ringbearer was near. And with the Ringbearer, was Aragorn.  
  
  
The forest around her was growing thicker as she neared Amon Sûl. Trees loomed all around like sinister watchtowers. She could almost feel a thousand eyes on her, but more terrifying than that, she could sense the Eye of Sauron staring at her.  
  
  
This was not a new discontent; ever since news had come of the One Ring's finding, all the elves of Imladris had felt this new sensation, Elrond in particular. Sauron was watching his enemies, and right now, all his focus was on the lone elf princess who rode out to aid not only the Ringbearer, but her mortal love, the last Heir of Isildur - the Dark Lord's two greatest adversaries.  
  
  
Then, she it heard: the sweetest sound that would ever fall upon her ears. "Hurry!"  
  
  
Aragorn was close!  
  
  
Dismounting her horse, she bade him to be quiet, patting his head gently to soothe his fears. Even animals could sense the Dark Lord's malice. With Elven speed, grace and stealth, she followed the song of his spirit: a haggard melody that was rapidly growing to a frantic crescendo.  
  
  
Then, through a gap in the trees, she saw a familiar figure bend down before a bed of herbs.  
  
  
It took all her dignity, grace and restraint to stop Arwen from darting to his side and throwing her arms around him. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, she crept silently towards them, carefully unsheathing her curved blade. A mischievous grin played on her lips as she thrust the blade under his chin, using the dull edge to ensure he was not injured in this little game.  
  
  
Aragorn stiffened, his pulse rapid. A trembling hand reached for the dagger hidden inside his leather surcoat. If he was fast enough, perhaps he could knock the sword out of his opponent's grasp?  
  
  
"What's this?" Arwen teased. "A Ranger caught off his guard?"  
  
  
He turned to face her, looking momentarily stricken at having been tricked; but his expression melted to smile. "Thank the Valar, Arwen!"  
  
  
In one fluid movement, she had re-sheathed her weapon and dropped to the ground beside him. Before Aragorn could speak, Arwen had pressed her lips to his in a desperate, comforting kiss, her tears marring a visible path down his grimy skin.  
  
  
Reluctantly, she pulled away, noticing for the first time what herb he had been cutting: athelas. Flames of fear flickered in her eyes. "Morgul wound?" she choked her throat suddenly dry. His eyes never leaving her face, Aragorn nodded. "Oh, sweet Eru!"  
  
  
Aragorn helped his love to her feet, a pleading look in his eyes. "The Ringbearer is passing into the shadow world. Can you help him?"  
  
  
Arwen trembled. She knew the technique for healing a Morgul wound, but did she have the skill to perform it?   
  
  
"Take me to the Halfling." 


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE: THE FORD OF BRUINEN  
  
  
  
The little Halfling was so weak. He lay upon Aragorn's cloak, his body trembling from the violent coughs that escaped purple lips, his sea-blue eyes clouded in unimaginable pain.  
  
  
It was impossible for one's heart not to melt at the sight of Frodo Baggins, the tiny Ringbearer, in his dying state. Arwen felt tears fill her eyes as she stepped closer to him. His three hobbit companions backed away to allow her easier access to their friend. Frodo turned, sensing the elf-maiden's presence. Arwen that the sight that greeted him was not the weary, slightly dishevelled rider, but the Evenstar in her fullest splendour.  
  
  
Dropping to her knees, she met his eyes, whispering to him in Sindarin: "Frodo… Frodo, Im Arwen. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad." [Frodo, I am Arwen. I have come to help. Listen to my voice, come back to the light.]  
  
  
The tension drained from the hobbit's body as Arwen's words touched the farthest expanses of his mind, drawing him from the shadow of darkness that threatened to encompass him. Whether he had actually understood what was being spoken to him mattered not; the result was the same. Bilbo had, on several occasions, claimed that his nephew was fluent in Sindarin - but the old hobbit did have a tendency to exaggerate.  
  
  
Aragorn dropped to his knees beside his beloved, fiercely clutching a stalk of athelas. Plucking a single flower, he placed it in his mouth and began to chew, his face contouring into a wave of disgust at the acrid taste. Arwen cautiously opened the hobbit's shirt, stifling a gasp when the angry wound met her eyes; the wound that was pouring darkness into Frodo's veins, corrupting his soul and pulling him back towards the Shadow World.  
  
  
Small voices marvelled at her arrival, wondering who she was. "She's an elf," one of them pointed out, and she felt three pairs of eyes stare at her in nothing less than amazement.  
  
  
"He's fading…" she whispered, knowing that even with two and a half millennia of tuition in the arts of healing, this injury was far beyond her skill; this was one ailment she would not even attempt to cure.  
  
  
A flame of determination in his eyes, Aragorn pressed the athelas into the incision in Frodo's chest. A strangled cry escaped the hobbit's lips as his frail form began to shudder vehemently.   
  
  
"He's not going to last!" Arwen proclaimed. "We must get him to my Father!"  
  
  
In one fluid movement, the Ranger and the elf-princess were on their feet. He swept the injured Ringbearer into his arms as they strode towards the horse. "I've been looking for you for two days now," she explained. "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know."  
  
  
Aragorn set the dying hobbit on the horse before turning to his love, speaking to her in Sindarin to ensure that the hobbits could not understand. "Dartho guin Beriain. Rych le ad tolthathon." [Stay with the hobbits. I will send horses for you.] He prepared to mount Asfaloth, when Arwen's hand stilled him.  
  
  
She shook her head. "Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im," [I will take him. I am the faster rider] she insisted. After all, she did have two and a half millennia more experience than him.  
  
  
"Andelu i ven." [The road is too dangerous.]  
  
  
Had the situation not been so dire, Arwen would have kissed her love for his sheer dedication. He was thinking of her safety above all else - but it was necessary for the Ringbearer to be delivered to Imladris immediately, and Arwen alone had the skill to do that. She barely heard the worried exchange between the other hobbits as they wondered over what she and Aragorn were discussing. "Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nîn beriatha hon." [Frodo is dying. If I can cross the river, the power of my people will protect him.] With a sigh, she lifted a hand to caress his cheek for a moment. "I do not fear them."  
  
  
He swallowed, acknowledging the truth of her words, but looking fearful nonetheless. Even if she was a warrior-maiden like Luthien, Arwen knew that her love would never cease to worry about her. It was one of the things that made her so sure that she could forsake everything she was - and would become - to be his wife. "Be iest lîn," [According to you wish] he answered with a heavy sigh, covering her hand with his own and giving it an affectionate squeeze.  
  
  
Aragorn placed his hands on her hip and lifted her onto Asfaloth's back. Arwen could sense the reluctance in his movements, see the fear flickering in his sea-grey eyes. When he returned to Rivendell, she would reward his dedication - and she knew exactly how.  
  
  
"Arwen…" he whispered. "Ride hard. Don't look back."  
  
  
With a final nod, she slapped her stallion's neck, digging her heels into his side to spur him on. "Noro lim, Asfaloth!" The horse obediently burst into a gallop as Arwen wrapped one arm around the Ringbearer, forcing herself not to look back at Aragorn. The tears in her eyes would only spill over if she saw his panicked gaze.  
  
  
The last sound she heard from the clearing was a defiant cry. "What are you doin'? Those wraiths are still out there!"  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
A grey dawn rose as Arwen pressed her weary horse onwards. Icicles reverberated down her spine as the Nazgul drew nearer and nearer…  
  
  
The injured Halfling groaned, and she could feel the strength slowly draining from his body. Urging her horse onwards, Arwen's eyes slipped shut for but a moment as she offered a prayer to the Valor. "Ai Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-diriel! A tiro ho!" [Oh, Elbereth Starkindler, from heaven gazing afar! Look towards him!]  
  
  
Suddenly, an icy hand gripped her heart. The song of her spirit turned from a frantic march into violent crescendos of terror. The Nazgul were near - too near for her liking. She could hear the pounding of their horses' hooves against the ground as she dug her heels into Asfaloth's side. His graceful gallop turned into a frenzied canter - he too could sense the evil that was rapidly surrounding them, engulfing both horse and rider in its sinister shadow.  
  
  
Arwen gasped as she caught of a flash of black. She cursed - it was one of the wraiths! Then, to her left, was another!  
  
  
Spurring her horse owwards, she swore as eight of Nazgul surrounded her, darting like rats out of the shelter of the trees. They were coming for the Ringbearer and the One Ring. But she would not allow Frodo to pass into their hands. For the sake of Middle Earth, she could not.  
  
  
Her heart raced, her breath coming in shuddery gasps. The Halfling, his eyes clouded as the poison of his wound filled his veins, lifted his head towards the nearest wraith as a gauntletted hand reached out to wrap itself around Frodo's throat…  
  
  
"Noro lim, Asfaloth!" Arwen screamed. The Ford was close. If she could just evade the Ringwraiths for a few more moments, then the power held in the valley of Imladris would protect Frodo from harm. Just a few more moments…  
  
  
The grassy field melted away to more rocky terrain. Asfaloth's hooves pounded against the stone underfoot like a drum. The wraiths screeched as they sensed the power of the elves around them.  
  
  
Arwen dug her heels into her stallion's sides, spurring him into one last, frantic gallop as they crossed the River Loudwater. Once within the vicinity of her father's influence and power, she paused, gasping for breath. The Nazgul, joined by their leader, the much-feared Witch King Of Angmar, stood poised on the opposite bank.  
  
  
The Witch King drew his crude Morgul blade. "Give up the Halfling, she-elf!" It hissed menacingly.  
  
  
Arwen drew her own blade in retaliation. "If you want him, come and claim him!" She shot back, swallowing her fear.  
  
  
The Nazgul seemed prepared the rise to her challenge. Eight blades were drawn from their sheaths amidst the scraping of metal against metal. Sauron's dark servants screeched before commanding their dark horses to cross the river.  
  
  
Arwen's eyes slipped shut as allowed the power of the elves to fill her body like a potion. Then, her mind called to the Vala King Ulmo, Lord of the Waters. "Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer: Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer! Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer: Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer!" [Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word: Flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths!] She chanted, every fibre of her body praying for the result. She repeated the chant again, only louder and more forceful: "Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer: Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer! Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer: Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer!"   
  
  
As she blinked, the sound of water crashing against rock filled her ears. She turned her head, one arm still wrapped protectively about Frodo's waist.   
  
  
The waters of the Ford crashed into the wraiths as a wave that could only have come from Ulmo himself swept them away. Tortured shrieks filled the air as the Nazgul found themselves subject to the power of the Vala lord, working through the Evenstar herself.  
  
  
Silence descended. Arwen took a moment to still herself, before a strangled gasp escaped Frodo's parched lips. A breath caught in her throat as she leapt down from Asfaloth's back and lay the hobbit on the ground.  
  
  
Skin that should have been a healthy peach was now ashen and dripping with feverish sweat. He groaned, foaming at the mouth, as the life seemed to slip from his body.  
  
  
"No Frodo! Don't give in! Not now!" She begged, pressing a gloved hand to his cheek. Tears slipping down her cheeks, she pulled the hobbit into her embrace, caressing his head soothingly. "What grace is given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared. Save him." 


	6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX: HOMECOMING.  
  
  
  
Lord Elrond shifted uneasily in his chair as a heavy escaped his lips. She had been gone nigh on three days - three days of fear, worry and anguish for the father left behind. What perils could have befallen his beloved daughter? Middle Earth was fraught with dangers, with the vilest of Sauron's servants roaming freely across the Misty Mountains and the lands of Eriador. In his dreams, he saw darkness overwhelm Imladris, Sauron's claw stretching into the lands many assumed beyond his abilities.  
  
  
The elf-lord gave himself a mental slap. Dwelling on the hidden fears within one heart only led to more anguish, which was the last thing that Elrond needed. Right now, more than water and the very air itself, he needed to know that his only daughter was safe.  
  
  
It was Glorfindel who had informed him of Arwen's flight. After the blond elf had regained consciousness - and his memory, at which point, he uttered several curse-words about horseshoes that Elrond could not believe were coming from his friend's lips - Glorfindel had broken the news to the Lord Of Imladris. The Evenstar had taken her horse, and was presently riding to the aid of her beloved.   
  
  
Aragorn… Inwardly, Elrond cursed the Man. The elf-lord had taken the fatherless toddler into his home and raised him, safe from the creatures that sought him. And how did Estel chose to repay his kindness? By taking away Elrond's most prized jewel - Arwen Evenstar.  
  
  
Elrond rested his head in his hands, leaning forward in the chair. Arwen's disappearance had only added to the anxiety gnawing at his heart. As the One Ring drew ever closer to the safe haven of Imladris, Elrond could feel the Eye of Sauron turned towards him, boring a hole into his heart. The weight of his years and burdens were staring to mount.   
  
  
Then, when he had assumed that his predicament had reached its worst, a new dilemma was thrust upon him. Only last night, the eagle Gwaihir had flown into the city, bearing a badly injured passenger: Mithrandir himself.   
  
  
Suddenly, he heard a faint cry in the distance. "Noro lim, Asfaloth!"  
  
  
The elf-lord leapt to his feet, scanning the area. His soul sighed in relief as he saw Arwen and her horse race along the mountain track, headed for Imladris. Then, a sudden stab of anxiety plunged into his heart. She was carrying a Halfling - none other the Ringbearer himself, Frodo Baggins.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Waiting in the courtyard, a very apprehensive Bilbo by his side, Elrond swallowed his worries. Arwen was safe and unscathed, save perhaps the scar on her cheek, but the injury was minor. The One Ring would soon be out of Sauron's grasp for a time. The magic of Imladris would keep the ring safe from Orcs, Uruk-Hai and goblins - but what of its effect on Men?  
  
  
Elrond barely had time to contemplate this. The gates were thrust open, and Arwen rode into her father's city, the Ringbearer in her arms, tears pouring from her sapphire eyes.  
  
  
"Ada!" She gasped, leaping off the horse. "Frodo fîr!" [Frodo is dying!]   
  
  
Bilbo stopped short, understanding her words. Swallowing, he dived to the boy's side. "Frodo!" Seeing his nephew's ashen skin and clouded eyes was obviously too much for the elderly hobbit, and he crumpled to the ground.  
  
  
"Sweet Eru!" Elrond snatched the hobbit from his daughter's arms, realising that the lecture he had prepared could wait for now. Together, the two strode up the staircase, Elrond shouting frantic orders to the crowd of elves who had gathered to witness the arrival of the Halfling Ringbearer. "Arwen, go straight to the apothecary and fetch me as much athelas as you can find! Erestor, send scouts into the woods to search for more! Glorfindel, take Bilbo to his chamber and see that he is made comfortable, then inform Mithrandir of his arrival!"   
  
  
All three elves nodded, hurrying off in their separate directions. Elrond closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to Elbereth to save the dying hobbit in his arms.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Arwen and Mithrandir watched Elrond apprehensively as he bandaged Frodo's wound. He had spent nearly three hours trying to heal the hobbit, and had finally managed to stabilise his condition.  
  
  
"Will he be all right, Ada?" Arwen asked, her voice barely a whisper.  
  
  
"If Frodo survives the night, then he will make a sufficient recovery," Elrond replied curtly. "Although that wound will never fully heal, it will not cause any life-threatening harm to the Halfling. However," he added, "These next few hours are crucial. I must remain at his side at all times. Mithrandir, you are still weak from your… experiences in Isengard. You should rest. The same goes for you, Arwen."  
  
  
"What?!" The two cried in unison.  
  
  
"Elrond, it is my fault that Frodo carries this burden," the Istar protested. "It is because of me that this happened. I will remain with him through the most crucial moments of this infection!"  
  
  
Elrond was in no mood to argue. "Fair enough, you may remain."  
  
  
"What about me, Ada? Surely I should help too. After all, I was the one that brought him to Rivendell! Please, Ada," she begged. "Allow me to remain with Frodo too."  
  
  
"Arwen Undomiel, you are in no position to argue with me, especially considering your conduct over these past few days," the elf-lord narrowed his eyes. "Which I intend to discuss with you when this matter is over. But right now, you will obey me!"  
  
  
Hurt by the fury in his eyes, Arwen slipped out of the room, sobbing, barely noticing the world around her as she made her way to her bedchamber.  
  
  
"Hiril-nin! You are safe!" Gilaina cried, embracing her friend. "I was so worried! Arwen?" She eyed her friend quizzically for a moment. "What happened to your cheek? And why are you crying? Arwen?"   
  
  
She sank onto the bed. "The Halfling is dying, Gilaina. He is dying, and I am not allowed to care for him, because Ada is furious with me." Tears poured from her eyes as she accepted Gilaina's pristine white handkerchief. "What will I do? I only wanted to help Estel, and look what happened!"  
  
  
Gilaina bit her lips, green eyes flickering with worry. "Arwen, mellon amin, if only you had seen they worry in your Ada's eyes when he realised that you had gone missing. He was almost in tears, Arwen. I have never seen him so afraid in my life, not even when your mother had been captured. She sat beside her friend, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "He may be mad at you for a time, but it is only because he is under stress."  
  
  
Arwen nodded, a sigh escaping her lips, followed by an involuntary yawn. "I suppose that you are right," she told her friend. "Perhaps I should take some rest."  
  
  
"'Quel undome, Arwen," [Good night, Arwen] she replied, slipping out of her friend's bedchamber and disappearing down the corridor.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Morning light poured into the room as Arwen wiped Frodo's forehead with a damp cloth. Mithrandir sat in an armchair at the Halfling's bedside, smoking his pipe thoughtfully, watching as Elrond re-bandaged the wound. Bilbo was drumming his fingers nervously against the table, looking deathly pale. Although he tired to hide it, the others could see the red rim of tears around his eyes.  
  
  
Finally, Elrond broke the strained silence. "It appears that, while Frodo's condition has not worsened, it has not improved either. It may be a few days before he awakens. Before then, however, there is little I can tell about the damage that has been inflicted upon him."  
  
  
"But he will live?" Bilbo asked urgently.  
  
  
Elrond nodded gravely. "Yes. As to whether or not he will heal, that is an entirely different matter." The elf-lord made to leave the room, but paused, turning to his daughter. "Arwen, come with me," he said firmly. "There are matters we must discuss."  
  
  
She brushed a kiss to Frodo's forehead before following her father to his study in silence. Elrond was going to reprimand her; she recognised that familiar coldness in his eyes, the aura of superiority he adopted when one of his children had been caught indulging in mischief.  
  
  
Upon entering his study, Elrond's calm mask slipped to reveal the anger beneath. "What in the name of Iluvater were you thinking? You could have been killed! Valor only knows what else was out there in the Wilds, tracking Aragorn and the Ringbearer! And you willingly rode out into such unknown danger! Do you have any idea how frantic I was? Knowing that my only daughter was within the clutches of the most vile of Sauron's minions? What possessed you to do such a thing?"  
  
  
Arwen waited until her father had stopped his ranting before she spoke. "Someone who is very dear to my heart was out there amongst such evil, with the Ringbearer under his protection. Estel may be a skilled warrior, but what chance did he have of outrunning the Nazgul on foot? Ada, I know that you are angry and upset about what I have done, but the fact is that I was trying to help the man I love." She turned to her father with haunting eyes. "Surely you would have done the same for Naneth?" [Mother?]  
  
  
Elrond sighed, knowing in his heart that she was correct. He would have moved the Misty Mountains themselves for his beloved Celebrian. "While I am still very upset, I cannot deny that, if you had not brought the Halfling to Imladris, the One Ring would have been in Sauron's possession by now. And at least you have rid us of the Nazgul, even if it is only temporarily. However, I am still very disappointed in you, not least because of the horseshoe incident."  
  
  
"That was Bilbo's idea," Arwen said. "I hold no responsibility for that. I only asked him to distract Glorfindel, not attack him; however, I will give my apologies to Glorfindel, if it should please you."  
  
  
Suddenly, Arwen found herself in Elrond's arms as he pulled her into a grateful embrace. "I am just glad that you have returned to me unharmed! But Arwen," he grasped her chin so that he could look into her eyes, "You must promise me never to do anything so foolhardy ever again."  
  
  
She smiled. "You have my word, Ada."  
  
  
"Good," Elrond nodded. "Now let us return to the Halfling."  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
"Are we almost there yet?" Pippin asked as the party stopped to rest beside the Ford.   
  
  
"I haven't walked so much since…" Merry screwed up his face in thought. "Actually, I don't think I've walked this far in my entire life!"  
  
  
"Not far now," Aragorn replied. Soon, he would be back in Rivendell… Back with his beloved Evenstar. Each second they remained seemed like a torturous eternity to him. He turned to the company. "On your feet. We can reach Rivendell by dusk if we hurry."  
  
  
"Will Mr. Frodo be all right?" Sam asked, worry evident in his voice.   
  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I don't know, Sam. I honestly don't know."  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Bilbo squeezed his nephew's hand as Frodo moaned softly in his sleep. "Poor lad," he muttered, ruffling his hair. "But you'll be all right, won't you, my lad?"  
  
  
Elrond and Arwen felt their hearts break at this tender moment. Bilbo loved Frodo as a father would his own son. The hobbit had stubbornly refused to leave his nephew's bedside, not even at mealtimes, which was most unusual for a hobbit. Even when Arwen brought food to him, the old hobbit could barely manage to eat it, and he had not slept in days.  
  
  
Arwen sank into the armchair vacated by Gandalf when he decided that he should watch for any sign of Aragorn and the other hobbits. "If I know Samwise Gamgee, he will cause a great deal of havoc until he gets to see Frodo," the Istar had said, eliciting a halfhearted chuckle from Bilbo's lips.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
The three hobbits followed Gandalf and Strider silently through the hallways of Rivendell. Their reunion had been a sombre one, for the wizard had informed them that Frodo was still unconscious, although he was not going to die.  
  
  
Gandalf stopped before an ornate door, knocking softly, before turning the golden handle. "Master Elrond, they have arrived."  
  
  
Arwen was on her feet instantly. Elrond eyed her quizzically, but quickly returned his attention to more pressing matters. "Bring them in."  
  
  
The door was swung open gently. Mithrandir entered the room, followed by the three hobbits from the clearing, who huddled around their friend's bedside. When Frodo awoke, she would ask him to introduce the others. Finally, like a shadow, Estel slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
  
It took all Arwen's restraint to prevent her from throwing herself into Aragorn's arms and kissing him passionately. She suspected that such an exchange would not sit very well with her father, so she remained standing over Frodo, smiling softly at her beloved.  
  
  
The sun had already set beneath the horizon when Elrond declared that the travellers should be shown to their chambers and allowed to rest. Although the hobbits had protested that they were fine - with the one called Sam arguing most vehemently with the elf-lord - eventually they succumbed to the Lord of Imladris' request. "Arwen, would you please show our guests to the guest rooms?"  
  
  
"Yes, Ada," she replied. "Come along, young hobbits."   
  
  
They reluctantly followed her along the corridor, until the one called Sam stopped. "Miss, are you the elf-maiden from the troll clearing?"  
  
  
Smiling, she nodded. "That is correct. My name is Arwen, and I am Lord Elrond's daughter. However, I do not have the pleasure of your names." The hobbits introduced themselves as Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, but expressed their preference to be known as Sam, Pippin and Merry.   
  
  
Once she had ensured that her guests were settled in their chambers, Arwen knew that it was time to seek out another traveller.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
  
  
  
Aragorn kicked off his mud-caked boots as she sat down, unpinning his cloak and throwing it to the bed. He sighed - he was safe in the confines of his familiar bedchamber in the only place he had ever really called home: Rivendell.  
  
  
A knock at his door drew the Ranger from his thoughts. "Minno," [Enter] he called, standing.  
  
  
Arwen threw open the door and ran into his arms, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss she had been starved of for far too long. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her close.  
  
  
"Welcome home, meleth-nin," she whispered, knowing that her wait for him was over. 


	7. Epilogue

EPILOGUE: THE FINAL PARTING  
  
  
  
Her hand trembled as she pushed open the door and stepped out into the courtyard. Arwen knew that Aragorn would be leaving *again*, but she had not anticipated how soon his departure would be.  
  
  
  
As she descended the marble steps, the breeze gently thrashing her dark locks into her face, Aragorn turned away from his conversation with Mithrandir to face her. Their eyes locked as he cocked his head, beckoning her to follow him. He slipped away from the Fellowship and strode towards an area obscured by pillar; it was the most privacy they could be afforded at the moment, so she followed him in silence, ignoring the dark look Elrond cast in her direction.  
  
  
  
As she drew nearer, Aragorn stiffened. More than once, he opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it. Arwen could sense the unease in his heart - and only part of it involved the journey to Mount Doom. No, something else weighed heavily on his mind, something that seemed to be slowly devouring him. But what?  
  
  
  
"Estel -" she began, but he raised a hand to stop her next words.  
  
  
  
"Arwen," he said with a sigh, eyes roving the courtyard. Perhaps he feared that this would be the last morn he would ever spend in Imladris? Of course it would, for the elves were beginning to depart for Valinor...  
  
  
  
"Estel, you are anxious," she said, stepping closer. "I can feel it. Please, meleth-nin, tell me what ails you?"  
  
  
  
He inhaled a sharp breath, and took her smooth hands in his roughened grasp. "Edra le men, men na guil edwen..." [You have a chance for another life...] he whispered, his eyes hardening "Haer o auth a nîr a naeth." [Away from war... grief... Despair.]  
  
  
  
She swallowed, struggling to find her voice. "Why are you saying this?"  
  
  
  
"I'm mortal; you are elf kind," he replied, the words reluctantly leaving his lips. "It was a dream Arwen, nothing more." Looking stricken at what he had just declared, Aragorn stepped back for a moment, trying to mask his own shock at having uttered such a thing. He allowed their hands to slip apart before opening his other fist to unveil the Evenstar, glimmering in the early morning sunlight, laying upon the worn leather of his gloves.  
  
  
  
Aragorn held the jewel out to her. "This belongs to you."  
  
  
  
She shook her head, unable to believe that Estel could say such words after all they had shared over the years. So often had he told Arwen that he loved her; why was he now trying to give back the most powerful symbol of their love?  
  
  
  
The words tumbled from suddenly dry lips. "It was a gift. Keep it." Her gaze dropped to the ground so that he would not see the gleam in her eyes that meant only one thing: tears. Arwen felt her throat tighten painfully as she struggled to maintain her composure. If she looked upon him, she knew her sorrow would spill forth.  
  
  
  
Aragorn blinked, feeling as though a dagger had been plunged into his heart. How he wished to take Arwen in his arms, to kiss her brow and hold her close, and promise her that he would never break her heart. But he could not. He could not.  
  
  
  
Elrond's voice still echoed in his head. 'I will not leave my daughter here to die!' And he was right... Arwen was the elf's fairest daughter, their Evenstar. Luthien Tinuviel had already been lost to them. Why should they have to lose another of their daughters to death?   
  
  
  
"Your companions await," Arwen's monotonous voice drew Aragorn from his thoughts as she lifted her gaze to meet his stone grey eyes.  
  
  
  
"Arwen, you must know that this is for your own good," he replied, stepping closer; but she recoiled. "Arwen, I may not come back. I do not want you to remain here if I die. Dark times are ahead, Arwen, and I want to know that if we fail, you will at least be safe in Valinor with your people..."  
  
  
  
"I do belong with my people, Estel. I belong with you." She lay a hand over his heart; but he swept it away. "I love you, Estel."  
  
  
  
"It was a dream, Arwen... Only a dream..."  
  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
  
  
"Arwen?" Bilbo's concerned voice drew the elf-maiden from her thoughts. She turned to the elderly hobbit, tears meandering down her ashen face.   
  
  
  
The hobbit stifled a gasp at her appearance, before placing a tiny hand over her own to soothe her. "Lady Arwen, what is wrong?" He sank onto the grass beside her.  
  
  
  
"It is Aragorn," she choked. "He wants me to sail to Valinor. No," she corrected herself. "Ada wants me to sail to Valinor. Aragorn was only repeating my father's wishes."  
  
  
  
"I see," Bilbo nodded, unsure of what to say. He had never experienced such heartbreak in his life, nor known anyone to suffer like this. "But what your father wants should not matter, Lady Evenstar. This is your decision to make; yours, and no-one else's."  
  
  
  
She nodded, and stood, brushing a blade of grass off her dress before turning towards the house. Yes, it was her decision, and she had made her choice.  
  
  
  
For Aragorn, she would wait forever. 


End file.
